By Kalysta Fern, age 13

It’s impossible for me to imagine 

                you,

as young as me:

                               with your careful confidence depending

                               on the steadiness of your hand as you


                               applied your makeup.

                I was there too, though you didn’t notice me.

                Me, and an infinite number of other mes,

                all inside of you

                                               sustained

by the enormous power of your body’s potential.

                               We sat there,

                               in the waiting room of God

                               and as is wont of those in waiting rooms,

                we waited.

I see you only as you are now,

your laughs

and frowns

all reflected on your face.

                The weight of your age eclipses you sometimes,

                and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

                                            We’re both growing old, you just

                                            
answered the starting gun first.

                                Each year I grow more like you.

                Already I feel the weight of a thousand possible 


               mes waiting within me, like a Russian Nesting Doll,

As I once waited within you.